Beyond the Wall of Time

by Russell Kirkpatrick

  “I am going to spread a multitude of those shapes over the barrier, and you must do the same, keeping the shape just as I showed you. Can you do this?”

  She nodded.

  A shadow began to grow at the far end of Corata Pit. Lenares looked up: an enormous sheer wall of cloud advanced over the pit’s lip. In it vast energies seethed; flashes of light illuminated various parts of the cloud wall.

  “Our time has run out,” Kannwar said.

  “We need to keep walking,” Noetos urged.

  Exhausted, Duon could do no more than plod, feet splashing along the track of sucking mud. Husk’s control had sapped his energy; he needed to rest, to eat, to sleep.

  “We need to do more than walk,” Arathé signalled, her hands frantic. “We need to run!”

  The first bolt of lightning nearly made Lenares wet herself. Little more than a blinding blue flash, it cracked and skittered against the canopy. Stella shrieked, Kannwar grunted; both sounds were drowned out by a terrifying roar that shook the pit.

  The first bolt was followed by another, and another, and then a sequence of them: white-blue daggers thrust at the canopy. The accumulated energy sizzled over the barrier as though searching for weak points, trying to find a way through.

  “Exactly what I would have done,” Kannwar remarked between strikes. The rest of his comment was lost in a further series of flashes and roars.

  “Will it hold?” Stella asked.

  “That depends on us. Now, concentrate!”

  Lightning rained on the canopy like hammer blows. Lenares clapped her hands over her ears, but each thump shook her chest so vigorously she found it difficult to breathe. The air smelled burnt, as though it had caught fire.

  The barrier held.

  The man with the hunch approached her. “Miss, come and sit with us. One of the magicians wants to try something.” He clutched at her arm.

  Most of the refugees sat huddled together a short distance away. Anomer stood before them, addressing them between strikes.

  “Hold hands,” he instructed. “I will try to draw strength from your essenza.” A series of booms echoed across the pit and he waited patiently until the sound had died away. “I have done this before. You will all feel a little discomfort, but no one will be seriously harmed.”

  At this one or two let go of their neighbour’s hand, then took it again, embarrassed. Lenares sat at the end of a row and took the chubby hand of a young boy. The woman at the end of the row in front reached back and grabbed Lenares’ other hand.

  Don’t touch me, her inner voice said, a rote reaction with little power. She ignored it. The boy’s hand was clammy while the woman’s felt scaly. Not at all like Torve’s.

  Above them a dozen bolts slammed simultaneously into the canopy, which buckled, then snapped back into place. Stella sank to her knees.

  “Now,” Anomer said, and closed his eyes. A moment later they popped open. “Nothing,” he said, disappointed.

  Lenares had felt nothing, no surge of power. She had hoped to feel it, to learn more about magic in all its forms.

  “I felt something,” someone in front of her cried.

  “So did I!”

  Others confirmed that something had happened.

  Another bright flash lit up the pit, turning the landscape into a searing monochrome. This time the canopy buckled further, and a small area near the centre did not repair itself.

  Umu will know, Lenares thought as the thunder cracked and rumbled.

  “We didn’t feel a thing,” came dozens of voices from behind Lenares.

  Anomer waved his arms to get everyone’s attention. “Those who felt the pull of magic, wave your arms.”

  Everyone in the rows in front of Lenares waved. She turned to see no raised hands behind her. The woman had let go of her hand to raise her own, but the boy beside her still held her hand in a fierce grip.

  It’s me. I’m the one blocking the magic.

  “Lenares,” Anomer called, “why don’t you come up here and help me?”

  She nodded, retrieved her other hand from the boy’s grasp and stood up.

  This time the flash was unbearable and Lenares squeezed her eyes closed. She counted five, ten, twenty, thirty-two flashes in a matter of seconds, accompanied by roars fit to burst her ears asunder. When the flashes stopped and the thunder cleared, Stella lay unmoving on the ground.

  “Are we close enough?” Duon asked.

  “We have to be!” Arathé was beside herself. “There is no more time!”

  Duon could see the pictures in her head. She had forced a channel through to her brother by main strength, one that had been open in the past but had been seared closed by Husk. Her mind bled from the roughness of her surgery to reopen it. The resulting images presumably originating from Anomer’s eyes—revealed the remaining travellers under siege. As Duon watched, more explosions of light tore across his inner vision, and when they ceased he saw the Falthan woman dead on the path.

  Arathé took her father’s hand, then dropped it. “I don’t need your hand,” she said. “I can pull power from you anyway.” She snatched at Duon’s hand and began drawing from him.

  Duon trusted her, would always trust her. He could see her intentions, but knew also just how little practical experience she’d had at this. As the cavity behind his nose warmed and his chest began to hollow, he hoped she wouldn’t draw too much. His small trickle of power flowed into her own river, then on towards her brother.

  At a nod from Noetos, the Padouki warrior lent his hand.

  Anomer, she said. This is all we have. I hope it is enough.

  Lenares’ cheeks burned with shame. She had prevented the magic from working. Something in her had resisted Anomer’s drawing, and everyone knew it. No one would speak to her now, she was sure; the friendships tentatively begun would end. She hadn’t meant to ruin things, but who would believe her?

  More flashes, this time brighter still as lightning lanced through the growing rent in the canopy. Around her people screamed in fright.

  Her mind backtracked. Something in her had resisted—or something on her. Cursing herself for a fool, she drew out the fragment of huanu stone she’d taken from Olifa the miner and strode towards Kannwar. She held it up before his shocked eyes.

  “Will this be of any help?”

  * * *

  Duon felt the connection between himself, Anomer and hundreds of other minds. Felt Anomer take the stream of magic, shape it, and aim it at the ragged hole in the canopy wrought by the lightning. Watched as the boy tried and failed to seal the hole shut.

  “Most High! Just a little help!” Noetos implored.

  The Most High whispered his answer through the fisherman’s own lips. “I will not interfere. So have I sworn.”

  “You interfered in the House of the Gods!”

  “That place is beyond the Wall of Time. My interference did no harm there.”

  “But they are about to die!”

  “Yet they may not,” said the Most High, and left Noetos.

  Stella lay as still as stone. Kannwar seemed torn: he continued to maintain the increasingly fragile canopy, but also sought a response from the Falthan queen. “She cannot die, she cannot die,” he chanted over and over, his ravaged eyes sunken like raisins in his head.

  “Ma sor Kannwar?” Lenares called, but his eyes were dim and did not see her. She turned away.

  Her numbers offered no help: they were unable to keep up with the enormous amount of magical energy coruscating through the pit. She had an idea, but could not tell whether it was sensible or foolish—though she feared the latter. Before she could think, before her mind could persuade her otherwise, her feet took her along the path up towards the lip of Corata Pit.

  I am going to die, she realised. I will be with Mahudia in the void.

  She hoped the others would defeat the gods without her. She hoped the void was not too cold. She hated the cold. At least she would be with Mahudia.

  She came to the
place where the canopy was anchored to the path. Holding the huanu stone high, she brought it close to the barrier. Carefully, carefully. As the stone came within a finger-width of the barrier, the insubstantial membrane began to melt. The huanu stone absorbed magic. Noetos had told her, Olifa had confirmed it, and now she had proof. Quickly she clambered through the barrier, then pulled the stone away. With a ripple and a snap the canopy flowed back into place.

  Now the hard part, the part that made her afraid. She inched out over the canopy, her legs shaking like saplings in a storm, making her way slowly under Umu’s gaze. She could almost feel the god’s eye on her, and knew she would make an irresistible target.

  When it came, the flash and boom were far worse than Lenares could have imagined. Her heart seemed to stop in her chest, fluttered for a moment and then began a tentative rhythm. She found herself lying face down on the canopy, her limbs shaking, looking at the upturned faces below. Drawing a deep breath, she levered herself onto her hands and knees, then looked up into the storm.

  “You’ve had a shot at me, Umu,” she called out, her voice small and quavery. “Is that the best you can do?”

  The Daughter’s furious voice smote her ears. What are you doing, little Lenares? Do not interfere in what you do not understand.

  The smell of burning air was very strong out here under the storm. It made her want to throw up. But she had to be brave or this would not work.

  “I understand you well, Umu,” she said, “and one day I will kill you. Maybe today.”

  Please, please, repair the canopy while I’m distracting her, she begged silently, hoping someone down there was still thinking.

  Put down the rock and we will talk, Umu said, her voice like thunder.

  “No.” Lenares knew how to be stubborn. You won’t tell me what to do.

  Out of the corner of her eye she saw the canopy begin to heal. Hurry, please hurry. It was taking too long; she knew she had to keep Umu angry.

  “I might talk to your brother,” she said.

  You will do no such thing! I will kill you first!

  “Not while I have the stone, you won’t.”

  I may not be able to kill you, the Daughter admitted, but neither can I reward you. Do you know it is within my power to give you magic?

  “I don’t believe you,” Lenares said, but she did. She knew Umu could do this. More, she wanted it: the desire leaped from her breast and seized her mind.

  Keppia has done it before, you know. He gifted mortals with long life and magical insight. The cosmographer knew Umu spoke of the Padouki. I’m as powerful as him. Don’t you want magical power?

  “Yes,” Lenares whispered despite herself. “Yes.” Then put down the stone. I can’t perform magic on you if you hold the stone.

  Oh, so persuasive. Lenares knew it was a trap, an obvious trap; that she would die under a barrage of lightning should she relinquish the stone. But it was what she wanted. She thought again of the bronze map she had seen in the House of the Gods, of the countries and kingdoms of the world spread before her, of the knowledge that could be hers. It had felt so right to sit on one of the gods’ chairs. All the questions she could have answered! She knew she would make a far better god than selfish, cruel Umu.

  Under the hole in the world, in thrall to the voice of a god—but really in thrall to her own desire—Lenares dropped the stone.

  QUEEN

  CHAPTER 7

  THE RELUCTANT GOD

  FLASH, CRASH, FLICKER, crash, flash. So much was happening all at once, Robal found it difficult to focus on one thing—until he saw Stella fall.

  At that moment he was looking directly at her, wondering how long she could sustain the energy-draining magic she performed. By his side, at his bidding. Robal could never forget that. Certainly it dominated his bitter thoughts up until the moment the canopy failed and the fateful lightning bolt struck her. He didn’t close his eyes, didn’t flinch as the crooked light-sword stabbed down, searing its image on his brain. A second later he ran, ran heedlessly, despite the lurching rock under him, his temporary all-but-blindness and the danger above. Didn’t care about that. Knew only one thing. She had fallen.

  Robal was at her side even before he noticed she’d been hit, calling her name, shaking her, slapping her slack cheeks, shouting for help. Her hand and feet were charred black, smoking gently. All the hair on her head—her beautiful hair—had been burned away. Eyebrows, eyelashes gone. Skin red-raw. Eyes rolled up in her head. Not breathing. Not breathing.

  Dead.

  He bellowed the Destroyer’s name, but the man was absorbed in the battle. He still hadn’t turned to see what had happened. Or maybe he knew and simply didn’t care.

  He dragged her a few paces, moving her from the vulnerable spot directly below the gaping hole in the canopy. Her skin rubbed off on the rock, came off in his hands.

  “She’s not breathing,” someone said. The scholar. He’d forgotten her name.

  “Get help,” he said, his voice barely able to escape his tight throat.

  “Stella?” The Destroyer had finally noticed. “Stella!”

  “She’s not breathing.” Robal repeated the scholar’s words, not caring how it sounded.

  “She cannot die.” The Destroyer’s ravaged face could have been wearing any expression: glee, shock, sorrow, exaltation. “She cannot die.” He reached a hand down to her. Above, the canopy quivered.

  Robal stared up into his enemy’s eyes. “If the Water of Life is in her blood,” he asked, “what happens if her heart no longer beats?”

  “I’m going to release the canopy,” the Destroyer said. “Let everyone know.”

  “You can’t do that,” said the young fisherman, Mustar. “Lenares is up there.”

  The next few moments were utter confusion. Stella lying on the cold granite, lightning stabbing at the tiny figure seemingly floating on air high above them, Anomer shouting at the refugees, and a sudden weakness that caused Robal to stumble and fall to his knees.

  The Destroyer stood over him. “You want her to live? Then lie still. I’m going to draw heavily from you.” He cast his voice wide. “Any other volunteers?”

  What was the man doing? A paralysing greyness descended upon Robal just when he wanted to do something. Drawing? What was being drawn from him? He tried to shout at the Destroyer, to tell him to stop whatever he was doing, but the world had gone dark.

  A few moments later the guardsman resurfaced, floating on a sea of grey. His first thought was of Stella. He tried to rise, tried to move, but nothing happened. Not a muscle would respond. He lay transfixed on the wide stone pathway, staring up at the shimmering barrier. Where was Stella? He tried to remember which way he’d fallen. No memory: he’d closed his eyes on the way down.

  Kannwar’s muffled voice came from somewhere close, just left of his feet. Stella would be there. All he had to do was raise his head a few inches.

  He couldn’t do it. The Destroyer had taken strength from him, stolen it, and though Robal knew it had been for Stella’s benefit, the simmering anger he’d been resisting finally exploded into a brilliant, perfect rage. He wanted to release everything he was in one howling conflagration aimed at the Destroyer. His fury seared almost everything left within him. Memories, love, virtues: all began to melt, to change shape in the fire.

  The Destroyer gave a shout. Was Stella alive? Had she moved? More likely he was reacting to the healing of the breach in the canopy. Let the thing go. Let fire and death rain down. If she is dead, let no one else live. Especially not him.

  With an audible snap, the canopy vanished.

  Robal exulted, and prepared for a fiery death.

  A shriek issued from the figure high above as she fell. Another snap and the canopy reappeared, this time lower—but too late to save the cosmographer girl. Directly above him her body continued to fall, twisting and tumbling. A myriad lightning spears were thrown down from the storm, every one absorbed by the new barrier. The crashes of thunder were drowned
out by a howl of anger. Robal tried to move his drained muscles, to roll away from where the girl was about to land, but could not raise even a twitch. He closed his eyes.

  And opened them again to see the petrified face of the cosmographer suspended a few feet above his own. Her scream had stopped, replaced by frantic panting. He had never seen eyes so large, or a mouth describe such a perfect circle.

  Without warning she fell the rest of the way, landing squarely on him. Her knee caught him a blow square in his privates, but he felt nothing. She sprang up, her lower lip bleeding, and looked at him with something approaching horror.

  “Don’t touch me,” she said, then bent down and picked up a small stone that had clattered to the ground with her.

  Is this condition permanent? Robal wondered. Has the Destroyer done to me what he did to Ma Umerta? He decided it didn’t matter. Perhaps he and Stella could be left lying here together. It seemed the only way he’d get to be alone with her.

  No, not permanent, he realised as his legs began to ache, then twitch. The returning feeling grew into an agony of hot pins thrust into his muscles and joints. His voice returned and he bellowed with pain. His mouth filled with phlegm. He managed to raise his head enough to spit, and saw Stella’s body lying prone about five paces distant. Willing his leaden limbs to move, he crawled to her side, to touch her ruined skin, her cold hands, her pale face.

  “She can’t be dead,” he rasped.

  “She is.” The Destroyer’s voice.

  “I thought she was immortal.”

  “No one knows the limits of what the Water of Life gives a human body. Clearly we have discovered that immortality requires a beating heart.”

  Robal grated a derisive laugh. “All life requires that, fool. If it were in my power, I would take it from you and give it to her.”

  “As would I,” the Destroyer said, and it sounded so very sincere.

  “I am willing to give it a try,” Robal said, levering himself to his feet. “Come now, Destroyer, cut open a vein and give her a drink.”